


Rain

by ominousvoice



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Brain Damage, Dystopian 80s Sci-Fi, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Violence, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17736911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousvoice/pseuds/ominousvoice
Summary: > MESSAGES (1). SEE MESSAGES Y/N?>MESSAGE FROM: SUZUKI CORPORATIONHello, Loyal Customers!It has come to our attention that one of our major branches has had a rather messy incident with a violent Cred-Hacker, who has apparently been working for us for a many wonderful years before this incident. We are writing to you in order to ensure  every last 7 billion of you that all of your investments will be safely returned to you in Two-Five Business weeks, and that thorough investigations and checks will be performed will be taken from here on out in order to avoid any further incidents.Our hearts go out to Mrs. Campbell and the family of Miss Kirstie Vang for their unfortunate losses; They were loyal and productive members of Suzuki Banking, and a untimely severance package will be deposited into your accounts.Sincerely, from All of Us of Suzuki Banking Corporation(Suzuki Banking: Our Banking is Out of This World!)>END OF MESSAGES





	Rain

Gladys watched her small highball glass quiver and the rapidly warming antifreeze inside slosh as the pounding music shook the sleek surface of the bar. She hardly even flinched when a blur of flesh color flew over the bar and landed with a crash against the arrangement of spirits and on top of the barback. She couldn’t even muster a lip twitch of disgust when a couple next to her decided to sloppily make-out and knock their drinks off the counter. 

No, she simply was content to watch the sweat glitter and slide down the outside of her glass before melding into the ever expanding ring of water around the bottom. It wasn’t as though the people around her were any different. They might as well all have had the same face. It made no difference to plain old Gladys, still wearing her Suzuki Banking uniform, the indigo meteor catching the ever flashing pink and purple lights and shining them back out against the ring of water and through the antifreeze.

She turned her head slightly to the side, past the frisky couple, and watched the swarming mass of strange contorting flesh as they flocked around little islands on the dance floor. Men, Women, and People that were both or neither all occupied these islands, clad in short and tight outfits as thin as cellophane candy wrappers and just as see-through. All of them smiled the same, danced the same, had the same blinking point of light ingrained into their temples, and had the same set of wires wrapping around the coils of their brains that made them all the same. 

Somewhere in the back of her head, there was a faint “ping!” and in a moment, a few green boxes opened up in her vision, floating just above and behind her glass. 

>REMINDER: WORK TOMORROW @9AM  
>REMINDER: TAKE ANTI-DEPRESSANTS @10:30PM  
>REMINDER: ANTI-DEPRESSANTS ARE LESS EFFECTIVE AFTER THE CONSUMPTION OF ALCOHOL  
> ADVERT: SUZUKI BANKING, OUR BANKING IS OUT OF THIS WORLD! INVEST TODAY!  
> MESSAGES (4). SEE MESSAGES Y/N?

Gladys stared blankly at the boxes, blinked and shook her head before stabbing in ‘N’ and swiping away everything else from her vision. The synth pounded onward at the same rhythm as the growing migraine in her head. She slid the long way down off the bar chair, gulped the antifreeze in one shot, and slammed the glass onto the bartop as she pushed her way through the crowd and out.

 

She walked out into the back alley of Magenta, e-cig in teeth, the pink neon creating a strange halo against her wild red nest of hair. She pressed against the brick walling, digging through her purse for her keycard while pressing PLAY on the messages. 

 

>MESSAGE FROM: MISTER J. CAMPBELL   
“Hey, uhhhhhh, Sybil? Joanne? Barbra? Doesn’t matter. What DOES matter is that I’m gonna need those reports done by tomorrow at 10. The meeting got moved to 11:30, and some of the higher-ups are gonna be there. I know you won’t let me down, Kaaate? Kate. See ya tomorrow.”

>MESSAGE FROM: MISS K. VANG

“Hiiii!~ I know it’s getting late, buuuuut I’m having trouble with the holoboards again at work, sooo, if it isn’t a real biggie, could you just type up the rest for me? Thank yoooou!~

>MESSAGE FROM: MX. R. PUGH

“Gladys, just calling to remind you that the rent is due at the end of the month, dearie. Also, you looked rather down in the dumps the other day, so just in case you need it, know that my door is aaaalways open. Have a nice night, dear. 

>MESSAGE FROM: 👎💣✋❄☼✋ ☼⚐💣✌☠⚐✞ 

“Hallo, Gladys. It has been some time, yes? We were having fun times back in day, Gladys. If you are interested, I am needing someone for job for Mister Johnson, and you are best for it. Call at-”

“...ain, rain…”

“And we talk about job in fullness. It is one hell of a-”

“Rain, rain… Rain, rain…”

“Hoping to be seeings you again, Gladys.”  
>END OF MESSAGES

Gladys snapped her head up, blowing a stream of smoke through her nose, dropping the keys back to the bottom of the bag and sliding the tips of her fingers over to the right. Turning on sensible heels, looking with narrowed eyes, ignoring the drizzle of rainwater over her scalp and down her spine as she looked. Where? Where was it-?

“Rain, rain… Rain, rain… Rain, rrrrain…” A long leg was sticking straight out from a pile of trash bags next to the overflowing dumpster. Gladys stalked closer, kicking aside bags until she could exhume what laid underneath. 

Her dress was a shining candy blue, water beading and sliding off of the see-through plastic. Her hair was weighed down into the grimy asphalt with water, and her large green eyes twitched and rolled in their sockets as perfectly glossy blue lips sang out “Rrrrain, rain…” over and over again. Green boxes popped back into her sight again, asking if she wanted to call the local guard forces as well as advertisements for Magenta and promotions of funeral homes. She blinked hard, and they vanished. 

Hunched like a waterlogged vulture, Gladys puffed at her e-cig. She watched blood well up and drip like antifreeze condensation on a glass. On skin. She saw the blinking light reflect light through the blue of the plastic, lighting up the planes of the body. Her body. Wires were part of the way pulled out through the port. There are wires sticking out of her damn head. She should leave the body behind, and not get involved. I should get up and leave her to die. But my feet won’t move. Gladys harshly exhaled a cloud of smoke into the smoggy air. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, please don’t go and do anything stupid. You’re going to feel like an idiot when you have to knock on Mx Pugh’s door and demand that they call the morgue because you decided to pick up a screwed up nightclub dancer, just don’t. Be. STUPID.” 

Gladys gave a muffled scream into the fabric of her sensible sweater, standing up quickly, and turning away. Her heels clacked quickly over the sizzling of the rain, her hand going back to clench her keys. 

“Rrrrrrrraaaain, rain… rrrrraaain…” 

She stopped. She stood. The rain poured, and the sky roared with thunder. It was quiet in the alley. 

“Oh, god...DAMMIT. GODDAMMIT!” 

*******

Gladys had a moment of clarity, a moment so blindingly bright, it brought tears to her eyes for the first time in decades. And this epiphany happened as her Suzuki Cred-Stick was denied at the Why Not Stop convenience store, with an apologetic and wincing cashier in front of her, a pack of rabid and howling children behind her with their dead to the world aunt, and a flurry of panicked work messages lagging her eyesight in front of her. 

It was with great shame that Gladys put back half an armful of groceries, and stomped out of the door with a happy “dink-donk!” behind her. Had she lived back in the olden days, Gladys was sure that she would be eating tarred tobacco as she chewed on the mouthpiece of her e-cig and flapped her hands around her head, swiping away all the ads for easy low-interest Suzuki cred loans and meditative breathing prompts and pseudo-nicotine injectors.

Living with a new roommate was an adjustment that Gladys had never seen for herself. 

Quite frankly, with the way things had been going? She saw herself getting so filled with stress and rage that she would spontaneously burst a blood vessel and die at her desk outside of Mr. Campbell’s office, and to be shuffled and cleaned away by the custodian bots like forgotten lunches in the back of the staff fridge in the breakroom. 

Waking up in the morning with a sculpted arm flung over her chest and a hot body smothered over her was a common one nowadays. Prying herself up, trying not to get her brush stuck in either her or her new roommate’s hair, taking a spoon of powdered Astro Puffs for herself and giving a spoon to her roommate back and forth as she hops awkwardly into her banking suit and shoves feet into sensible heels. Sending out a hurried message to Mx Pugh to watch the roommate, and storming out the door to catch the next gravity train. Getting sandwiched between the eternally sweaty real estate businessman and the lanky teenager with her earpods up too loudly, getting out at the 7th stop and bum rushing the office. For a few months now, this has been Gladys’s routine. 

Sure, things had been a little bit tight and yeah, things at work had gotten a little bit more stressful with the CEOs starting to crack down harder against a fresh wave of cred-hackers, which meant they were cracking down harder on Mr Campbell, which, well. The only tongue-lashing that Kirstie was getting from Mr Campbell was the one that took an hour behind locked office doors and was snickered about around the water cooler. 

It reached the point where she couldn’t remember what the top of her desk looked like anymore without the holopad notifications and the slowing stacking towers of Insta-Brew. Everything was a mess, everything was too fast and too slow all at once, but getting that flashing red frowny face at the cred-register in a little hole-in-the-wall convenience store? That was the straw that snapped her camel clean in half. 

*******

Moments of clarity were always meant to be illuminating. Like turning the lamp on after the sun went down after a few hours of sitting in the dark. You’re meant to be calm, relaxed, composed. All actions after the moment are meant to be civil and well-meaning. 

>MESSAGE (1). SEE MESSAGE Y/N?

>MESSAGE FROM: MISTER J. CAMPBELL 

“Hi there, Judy. Would you be kind enough to step into my office please? Immediately?”

>END OF MESSAGES

Gladys stepped into the clean cut set of cream and chrome angles that made up Mr Campbell’s office. The tall and lanky frame of Mr Campbell stood with his back to her and face to the wall of windows that opened up to a wide view of Center Square, cars zipping through the air lanes and gravity trains screaming through the clouds of smog on their rails. Kirstie Vang simpered in one of two chairs set up in front of his desk.

“Ah, Helen? Yeah, Helen! So good of you to join us! Come and sit down, please, this won’t take too long…” Gladys plopped herself into the overly plush cream chair, casting a look out of the corner of her cat-eyed glasses to Kirstie, who looked so overwhelmingly smug for someone who still couldn’t figure out how to work the voice commanded Insta-Brew machine. 

“Now that we’re all seated and comfortable, it is with great sadness that I must inform you two that I have to start the annual round of layoffs. Suzuki Banking only wants the MOST EFFICIENT employees to be handling our banking, especially with the rise of crit-laundering and stealing from those damnable hackers!”

“Yeeeah, those dangable hackers!” Kirstie piped in. Gladys stayed ever silent. Inside, she could feel a sense of knowing dread creep over the hillside.

“Yes, well. It is deeply regrettable but, Jo-Ann, I’m afraid you have until the end of the month. But don’t worry, you can keep working right up to the end, and get your standard issue Suzuki Banking Departure Package, including first-serve rights at the Loans Office.”

“And I’m right to assume that Miss Vang is going to be taking over my position?”

“Was that a slight tone I heard there, Jo-Ann?”

“Not at all, Mister Campbell. Thank you for letting me know, and I am proud to have worked for Suzuki Banking.”

“And Suzuki Banking has been proud to have you! Uh, you can get back to work now, Molly. Miss Vang, please stay in the office for a bit longer, if you please?”

“Of course, Mister Campbell…~”

Gladys stood up quickly and walked out of the office. And if the door slammed a bit on the way out, who could really blame anyone?

*******

It was a long ride home. Gladys kept her eyes closed, and chin tucked against her breast, turning off all notifications. Muting all sound. Getting rid of all sensation except the rumbling of the train car under her heels, and the sway of the bodies hanging off of their straps like old fashioned butchers back in days of old. And wasn’t that a sensation brought back anew?

Seven stops, and Gladys got off, trudging past the broken lift and up the stairs with the buzzing fluorescents casting an even sicker and paler hue to her skin.

Rain, as Gladys had been forced to call her, and Mx Pugh both jumped in their seats at the tiny cracked plastic card table that had been acting as the entire formal dining room for the years Gladys had been renting this apartment as Gladys herself wrenched open the sliding door, let her purse thunk to the floor and Rockette kicked both heels into the nearest wall. The twin THUNKS created a healthily sized diviot in plaster, without actually falling into the wall. 

Mx Pugh, in all their wisdom, was the first to recover: “It seems like you’ve had a bad day, dearie, but that still isn’t going to stop me from taking the repair cost out of this month’s rent.”

Rain turned her wide green eyes to stare into Gladys’s own, and for a moment it felt as though she understood, even though Gladys knew that she couldn’t even say anything other than “rain, rain” over and over again. But Gladys didn’t have to worry about ripping Rain’s head out of trash compressor because someone had dropped her key card into it… Again. For the second time that week. So, at the least, Rain was a legion smarter than Kirstie ever would. 

And yet. Kirstie Vang was the one who was going to be able to keep her crappy little apartment for a few more years. Gladys would be lucky to keep a cardboard box for the next few years. 

She sat heavily down on the end of her bed, head back down, and arms limp over her knees. Maybe if she was prettier. Maybe if she was looser. Maybe if she was less prideful. Maybe if she didn’t bring home a braindead dancer, I would still have my job-! 

The thoughts kept blowing in, swirling and scraping around like a sandstorm in the desert of her mind. There was no moving while she sat getting buffeted by her own hate and misery over and over and over and there was a head resting on the back of her neck and a sculpted arm around her back. The sand cleared, and there was Rain. 

Her long legs were almost up by her chin in the low hanging bed, with its doughy soft mattress and worn out springs. The large square bandage over the exposed port in her temple pressed against the skin of Gladys’s neck, and the fine-boned fingers of Rain’s hand cupped her side firmly. It was a loose embrace. It was so human. 

For the first time in what must have been years, Gladys cried. And in the middle of the night, the moment of clarity came back, burning like a band of hellfire all around her and the twists of her guts.   
Gladys knew what she had to do. 

She sent a message.

 

>MESSAGE TO: 👎💣✋❄☼✋ ☼⚐💣✌☠⚐✞

“I’m in.”

>END OF MESSAGES

*******

Mr Campbell was the type of man to never let the littlest of life’s pleasures pass him by. Top of class, life of the rush parties that he would organize, the number one stag. He made sure that he climbed his way as high as possible, married the richest, hottest and busiest CEO he could get this hands on, and then made sure to have the finest wine and dinner with the finest, although not the brightest, secretary in his office. 

Mr Campbell was also sure to get the most competent secretary in his office so he could keep enjoying his life of pretty and wondrous things. And he would have continued happily onward with his happy, shiny existence if it wasn’t for the Higher Ups and their renewed campaign against the Hackers. 

Hackers had been particularly greedy this quarter, as well as clever. Some Hackers had even planted themselves as sleeper agents within the larger corporations, slowly leeching away at profit for years until it was time to retire. And when the time came? Well, the leeches were going on the next space shuttle to Paradise. 

And speaking of his soon-to-be former competent secretary, she had been quieter than usual. She sat supernaturally still at her desk outside his door, save for her fingers. He would go out to lunch, and come back in, only to see the green glare reflecting off of her cat-eyed lenses as he entered and the back of her frizzy red head as he closed his office door behind him. Mr Campbell was almost sure that he had seen at least one custodian bot scurry out, ready to clean a corpse, only to get smacked away by a very not-dead hand. 

Mr Campbell watched this for a good three weeks, going home and enjoying the company of his wife and the happy furry face of his dog, Astro at his feet. But then, one day, he was foolish enough to leave his house key-card in his office. 

He got out of his car, telling Miss Vang to sit tight until he came back, and then made his way up to his office. The elevator cheerily played The Girl From Ipanema on the way up, before ding-ing at the 40th floor. He stepped in, walked through into his office, grabbed his key, and glanced over at Gladys’s desk. Her screens were still on and up, but it was the end of the work day. Mr Campbell scoffed under his breath, looked at the screens, and froze. A clunking of thick heels came from the breakroom and stopped.

>CALL SECURITY Y/N?

He opened his mouth and raised his hand. Gladys raised her own hand from her purse. 

“Shnookums, I know you said to stay in the car, buuuut… OH GO-!”

 

Gladys held the silenced gun stationary in the air for a bit longer, letting the smoke cool from the tip before clicking the safety back on and sliding it back into her purse, next to her new brandless Cred-Stick. 

She sighed, pushed Mr Campbell off of her chair, and checked the loading bar on the screens. The custodian bots swiftly scampered out, dragging away the tall form of Mr Campbell along by his fine leathered feet and the beautiful Kirstie Vang by her long locks of blonde hair. As it was still the final week before her unemployment, Gladys did as any good secretary would do, and started cancelling Mr Campbell’s appointments, starting with his doctor’s visit tomorrow at noon. 

When the bar was finally full, Gladys gently okayed the transfer of funds, put the security feed and computer on a self-destruction timer, and was sure to turn the lights off as she left to catch the train home. 

Of course, there is only so much that wiping a camera feed can do. 

*******

And now, Gladys was here. Her hands shook, her purse behind her back while the barrel of the gun gleamed. Even at the height of her former career, she could never recall being this frightened. And all it took was a message from 👎💣✋❄☼✋ ☼⚐💣✌☠⚐✞ telling her about a mouthy custodian bot keeper who didn’t quite care for the sight of a herd of cherry bots dragging his boss and secretary into the furnace room. 

Gladys was compromised, and it was time to bail. Rain crouched at the window, staring blankly up into the sky, as the clouds opened up and flashed. She jumped at the thunder, and yet she refused to look away from the spectacle above. Gladys stood with the silenced gun behind her back and slowly walked up a little closer. No loose ties. 

Besides, you wouldn’t be in this situation if she wasn’t here. You would have been able to eat a while longer, not needing to buy for two. You would have kept your cool, grit your teeth, kept grounded. But no. You had to be soft. 

All of those Crit-Checks? They could have gone to you instead of inside of this dancer’s head! And let’s face it. It was her fault in the first place, she signed up to be a wired up puppet, and it was her fault for stepping out back and getting clubbed upside the head.

Gladys wasn’t able to afford her pills. Those had been given up for more food and some Cell-Gro in the second month of Rain’s residency. Everything was stable before the Rain came.

But it was boring too.

Years so easily passed before Rain, sunup to sundown. It might as well have been the same day on rotation. But now? 

She woke up warm. She saw another face across from hers at the card table that stayed longer than a night. Someone else walked with her up and down the streets. While there wasn’t conversation back and forth, for once, Gladys felt as though she was something more than a stepping stone. Girls like her were never built to be maidens fair, but that night, three weeks and 2 days ago, she felt like a white knight staring into the maw of the fire-breathing dragon, ready to face the unknown. 

Are you certain you’re the Knight? Or are you really the Dragon?

Gladys stared down the barrel, hand quaking and eyes stinging. She slammed her eyes closed, just as Rain turned around as though in a dream. 

“Rain, rain… Glad.”

A loud boom broke the silence in the apartment, before the gun dropped to the ground. 

 

*******

 

The motorbike roared down the coast, palm trees swaying in the breeze, the sky bleeding orange and the sun sinking into the depths of the ocean. Gladys revved the engine harder, and put on more speed as she swerved onto her exit ramp. It took some hours, but before he knew it, a 👎💣✋❄☼✋ ☼⚐💣✌☠⚐✞ had a helmeted Gladys standing on his doorstep. 

She was arm in arm with a tall woman with raindrops stencilled onto her helmet, and he smiled.

“Hallo, Gladys and guest. Mister Johnson awaits us. Shall we?” 

They stepped in, and the door shut with a firm click.


End file.
